


Eight Times the Warden Sought Sex Advice… and One Time She Didn't

by Augustus



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, First Time, Humor, virgin!warden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: Who's an inexperienced Warden going to go to when she needs to ask about sex?





	

**1.**

Wynne is the companion you always go to for advice. She’s seen so many things and been so many places and she’s never afraid to give you her opinion, even when she knows it’s not the one you want to hear. So you go to her first, naturally.

“I need to talk,” you say, but then her calm gaze and caring response remind you so much of your mother that you want to cry.

Asking for sex tips suddenly feels quite wrong, all things considered, so you force a smile and ask her for another tale of Circle life. She strokes your hair as she talks.

 

**2.**

Oghren leers. “Sex?” he asks. “Well, you’re first step is to find yourself a _proper_ man, someone with the kind of size and experience that can only be forged underground, and then—“

“Forget I asked,” you say quickly, and run off to the safety of the campfire before things can get _really_ disturbing.

 

**3.**

“I have a question,” you say.

“Why am I not surprised?” Sten asks, with the usual half-sigh he does little to contain.

“Qunari have sex, right? I mean, you have to, or else how would you reproduce?”

“Reproduction is controlled by the Tamassrans,” he says. “Qunari do not whelp carelessly like humans do.”

“They choose who you sleep with?”

“They choose who you reproduce with,” he corrects you. “It is not the same thing.”

“I’m confused,” you say.

“Yes,” he replies.

He turns away. Apparently you’ve talked enough.

 

**4.**

You know Morrigan’s more experienced than you, despite her professed distaste for most men. But when you ask her to give you a few pointers, or at least to just tell you what sex is really like, she laughs in your face.

“If you think I would encourage such a thing, you are poorly mistaken,” she says. “The man is a braying fool. And to think I had considered you intelligent.”

You’re so surprised by the almost-compliment that she’s gone before you think to disagree.

 

**5.**

Dog drops a well-chewed fennec at your feet and barks proudly.

“You want me to give this to Alistair?” you ask.

He barks again, tail wagging.

“I think that only works for dogs,” you say. “Humans are less enthused about visible intestines.”

He whines.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll put it in his tent. But only because he’s cute when he screams.”

 

**6.**

“Squishings and squelchings?” Shale asks. “Why would it be interested in that?”

You grimace. When Shale puts it that way, you’re not entirely sure you know.

 

**7.**

You’ve heard the stories about bards, so you think Leliana’s likely to be more knowledgeable about sex than the chantry robes suggest. But when you ask for help, she pulls out her lute and tunes it before launching into an epic ballad about Andraste’s love for the Maker. Forty minutes later, the final verse ends and Leliana looks at you with eager eyes.

“Don’t you see?” she asks.

“Yes,” you say. “Thank you.”

You’ve no idea what she’s talking about, but the song was quite pretty—for the first twenty-three verses, as least.

 

**8.**

“Ahh, you have come to the right place, my friend,” Zevran says. “I was raised in a whorehouse, you know, and I am no stranger to the many forms that pleasure may take. Tell me, will you be on top or will he have that honour? Or would you prefer to do it standing up? Facing him or away from him? Do you enjoy a little pain? Or perhaps a lot of pain? And how about—“

“How about we pretend I never asked?” you say, your face burning with embarrassment and a hint of something else.

“Tell me how it goes!” he calls after you. “I do like a saucy tale.”

“Maker forbid,” you mutter into the campfire and wait for the blush to fade.

 

**AND...**

“You don’t mind?” Alistair asks. “Really?”

“Not at all,” you say, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“The chantry was very good at teaching us to pray,” he says, “but rather lacking when it came to… well… _this._ ”

“I’m glad,” you say. “This way we get to find out together.”

“Excellent,” he says and this time it’s his turn to blush. “I look forward to it.”

“So do I,” you say and kiss him. “Maker, so do I.”


End file.
